The Manager
by JennaGill
Summary: A one shot from Katniss' perspective. Prompts In Panem Challenge, Day Three-The Wrestling Championship


"We've never had a girl manager for the wrestling team." Coach Abernathy states. "The practice room is small, and can get pretty ripe."

"Honestly? I hunt. I clean my own game. I'm not adverse to odors. But District 12 doesn't have an archery team - and I need two more extra curricular credits." I tell him.

He lets out a old snort, "Archery team? Hell, we can't even afford head gear for the wrestling team we do have."

"So I can do it?" I ask with optimism. "Sweetheart, you don't even know what you just signed yourself up for."

That was a few months ago. Since then, I've kept my hunting schedule to early mornings and Sundays. Afternoons are dedicated to practices and tournaments are on Saturdays. It didn't take long to learn the sport and how to score a match. I kept tick marks for the points awarded for successfully maneuvering opponents into different moves and pins. I would even offer words of encouragement, but let's face it… I'm not cheerleading material. I'm just a glorified scorekeeper.

The team is small, not quite filling out all weight brackets, but tenacious. Peeta Mellark is the team captain, wrestling at the 176lb class. Youngest of three sons that were also wrestling captains their senior years. He's my secret crush for the last five years and my other reason for wanting to manage the men's wrestling team at District 12 High School. His family runs the only bakery in town. He trades me fresh bread for meat during the season. Other guys on the team just get it from the butcher in town.

I try hard to maintain a level of composure when we exchange goods in the mornings since we hardly talk during practice or meets. I can't keep my eyes off him though. I want to run my fingers in and out of the dips of his chest, shoulders, and biceps. I thought it might be like this when I volunteered to manage the team, but having my silent crush just out of reach every day is agonizing. I watch him on the mat and daydream a little about being out there with him. Full nelsons aren't allowed in high school competition, but what I wouldn't give to be pinned beneath him, his strong arms holding mine down.

We don't trade on weigh-in days before meets. I miss the fresh bread, but I miss the interaction with him more. Sure I get to spend all Saturday, keeping tabs on him through the matches, but I'm also tasked with scoring the other matches as well. So I'm surprised when I see him waiting for me in our usual trading spot before school. I've already bartered for my game for goods, but I can see that he has something in his hands.

"Hey Katniss" he says, nervously flitting his eyes about. "I thought we could trade today."

This is confusing to me since none of the guys eat on weigh-in day, they are usually too tense about making their weight class. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I've already doled out my rabbits and squirrels today."

"Yeah, I figured, but, um, what I'd really like is for you to cheer for me tomorrow." He rushes out and smiles. I love his smile. "I brought your favorite cheese buns and I just thought the extra support couldn't hurt in my big match against Cato."

Once I recover from his request, I nod. The cheese buns are hard to resist and I'm always screaming for him to win on the inside - what can it hurt to be vocal about it? "Are you really that nervous? You've been doing really well all season, winning your class at most meets." I venture in a small voice.

His shy grin at my confidence in him is enough to encourage me for a secondary offer. "Tell you what, if you win, I'll give you a kiss." I been dreaming about it anyway, that spot just between his ear lobe and upper jaw line. It begs to be kissed. Certainly it can't be bad to give him some incentive?

I can't see his eyes light up at my counter offer, I'm suddenly too focused on my shoes and returning my face to a normal color. I'm usually not so daring. Once I do return his gaze, I know there's no getting out of this. He's beaming. Either he really likes kisses or maybe my crush isn't so one-sided.

I cheer him on quite enthusiastically. Maybe too much. Peeta pins Cato in a grueling match. We win state.

Afterwards he finds me dawdling behind with the scorebook. "I think there's a little something you owe me now." He smirks.

I turn to face him, "you're a champion now, Peeta. You can get kisses from any girl in this school."

"I don't want kisses from any other girl, I want to kiss my manager."


End file.
